The Cruel Ironies Of Time
by Sabeth LemonDrop
Summary: Hermione accidently broke her time turner, and sent herself back into 1869, where she meets none other than a 16 year old Albus Dumbledore. HG/AD. (Please R/R, I crave the approval of annonymous strangers)
1. The Breaking of the Turner

The Cruel Ironies Of Time  
  
A/N: To save myself a headache or two, I'm not staying very true to the customs of the late 19th century. You understand, right? Oh hell, you and I both know you don't care!  
  
Hermione Granger was very proud of herself indeed.  
  
No one took on workloads that were nearly as massive or challenging as she did, and she knew it. Not only that, but her marks were higher than nearly any in the school. Yes, even though she was running herself ragged, she often found it worth it just so that she could hold her chin up high in the hallways, proud of all that she managed to accomplish on a daily basis.  
  
One particularly cold Monday on the 5th of January, Hermione had just completed a rather difficult transfiguration class. She had been the only one out of both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw 6th years to transfigure her iguana into a fully mountable winged horse. Professor McGonagall had whispered a warm "congratulations" to her as she packed her bag and left the classroom. Feeling quite overconfident, she absent-mindedly reached into her shirt collar to pull out her time turner, so that she could take her Arithmancy class. She found that it had snagged on the inside of her buttoned blouse and, when she tugged on it rather roughly, the hourglass flew from its hiding place. It spun several times in midair and broke from its golden chain link. Just barely before it hit the ground, Hermione reached out and grabbed it tightly, breaking in it two with her fist. At that split second, she felt a backwards rush as she sped through the vaguely familiar time turner portal. She had never been in it for that long, seeing as she was normally only going back in time by one hour. The golden sand flew about her, getting in her eyes and mouth. Just when she thought she would get sick from the speedy joy ride she landed, hard, in the hallways of Hogwarts. 


	2. My Name is Albus Dumbledore

Hermione began to compose herself as she observed her surroundings. The hallways looked almost exactly the same, save the sparkling new handle which now graced the transfiguration classroom's door (Peeves had broken it a few days earlier). If that were true, she had to wonder how far back she had actually gone.  
She began to wander the halls aimlessly, searching for any means of a clue. Just then, a girl wearing a rather long, dull black dress under unfamiliar Hogwarts robes passed by her. She gave Hermione a very strange look indeed. Hermione gasped; she hadn't gone back by only a few days or weeks, she went back by years. And judging by the looks of that girl's dress, she'd have to estimate at least 100 years. Her heart raced in her chest; this could not be happening. Who could she turn to? Where could she find help?  
The Headmaster.  
She wasn't sure who it was who held the position of Headmaster, but she knew that whoever it was, they'd be able to help. She practically sprinted up the flights of stairs and to the 7th floor, where Dumbledore's office had always been located. When she arrived, she stared at the gargoyles guarding the entrance. What was the password? There must be an exception for students who are in need of help.  
At this thought, the guards leapt aside, granting her entrance. Impressed by the protection spell that had been cast upon them, Hermione trotted onto the moving staircase. Soon, (too soon, for Hermione's liking) she found herself face to face with the heavy wooden doors that led to the headmaster's chambers. Taking a deep breath, she pushed them outward, only to reveal a dull and dusty study.  
She stood, frozen by uncertainty, as she forced her throat to open in order to create any kind of noise that would attract attention.  
"Hello?" she croaked.  
A distant crash was heard. Hermione's nerves were practically shot, as a short, squat man with rather large spectacles came scurrying from an unseen part of the room. He stared at her for a few seconds, seemingly unable to remove his gaze from her exposed knees and lowly buttoned blouse. Suddenly, Hermione had found her voice.  
"I'm terribly sorry, Professor, allow me to introduce myself; my name is Hermione Granger."  
"Ah," replied the twitchy old man. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, but what exactly is your business, here, in my office?"  
"Yes, well um, my business.well, you see sir, I seem to have had a small amount of trouble with my time turner." as she said this, she reached out her hand, which held the remaining shards of glass from the turner. The Headmaster stared down at it with wide eyes, and a shocked expression on his face.  
"A time turner! Well, those are quite rare, how on earth did a girl your age obtain one?"  
Hermione was briefly taken aback by this statement. Time turners, in her time, were quite common. Many witches and wizards owned them and used them on a daily basis, so as to complete tasks similar to Hermione's, in their jobs or at their schools. Whatever time period she was in, it had not yet incorporated time turners into their society.  
"Well, you see sir, the time period I come from doesn't find time turners all that uncommon. I use mine to take several classes at once here at Hogwarts."  
The Headmaster stared at her. This seemed very mind boggling to him, indeed. What to do with such a girl? Her time turner was beyond repair, but without it, she could never return to whatever period she had come from. Therefore there was only one solution.  
"What time period is it, exactly, that you came from, Ms. Granger?" he asked, gently.  
"The year 2003," she answered, nervously. He took in a quick, sharp breath. 2003?  
"I had no idea a time turner, could, could propel someone so far back into the past."  
"Why? What year is it?" Hermione asked, somewhat panicked.  
"My dear, this is the year 1869!" he replied, almost fearful of her response.  
Her eyes seemed to glaze over. One hundred and thirty four years! How in God's name did her time turner fail her so miserably? She had never read of such an occurrence, how could something like this be?  
She must have seemed quite distant to the Headmaster, who began fanning her face with his hand. She blinked, incredulously, before remembering where she was.  
"Headmaster," she whispered, "will you be able to find a way to get me back to 2003?"  
The headmaster stood silently for a few moments, before replying, "I believe, that with the aide of the Ministry of Magic, we will be able to create a time turner powerful enough to right this terrible wrong."  
Hermione took a deep breath. There was still a chance. She nodded, slowly, before saying, "thank you."  
He nodded as well. And to think, only a few moments ago he was fusing over the filing of his paperwork. During this brief moment of silence, he took the opportunity to observe her attire. The students of 2003 were quite exposed, were they not? Above the knee skirts? Interesting.well, at least they still sported scarves showing off the colors of the houses in which they belonged; and seeing as her scarf is scarlet and gold, I'd have to say she's in-  
"Gryffindor is your house, is it not, Ms. Granger?"  
She looked up. You could see tears starting to collect in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back and nodded.  
"Well then," he continued, "I see no reason to delay your study any further. You're going to be here for a while, Ms. Granger, so we may as well settle you into Gryffindor tower. And as soon as you feel fit, I will arrange a class schedule for you with the Gryffindors."  
The expression on her face seemed to lighten. She was allowed to remain at Hogwarts, and continue classes, nonetheless!  
"I shall have the house elves make you a few new dresses and robes.your clothing really isn't appropriate for this time period."he said, trailing off.  
Hermione glanced down at herself. She rolled her eyes inwardly before buttoning her blouse up to the top.  
"As for the extra classes you were taking with the time turner, I suppose you can make them up on the weekends, if you really want."  
"Thank you so much, professor!" she exclaimed, almost ready to hug him.  
"Oh, not at all, Ms. Granger," he replied. He glanced down at the pocket watch attached to the outside of his robes, before looking up one more. "Dinner is about to be served in the Great Hall. If you wish to attend, I shall send a house elf to the girls' Gryffindor dormitory now.I daresay you will need the help to make yourself presentable. What year did you say you were in, now, dear?"  
"Sixth," she replied, as she began towards the exit. "One again, thank you so much for all your help, really."  
And with a quick wave goodbye, she was off. If her outfit really was all that outrageous, she had better get to the dormitories soon- the bell for class to end would sound any minute! Luckily, the entrance to Gryffindor Tower was only a short ways away, around the corner up ahead. However, just as she took a rather sharp turn to it, she was confronted by a great big pair of outrageously blue eyes. Hermione took in a quick, harsh breath, and stumbled back a few feet. The eyes belonged to a boy, probably the same age as Hermione. He had thick, auburn hair that had a pleasant wave to it; and a body which was long and thin, yet muscular. The boy eyed her suspiciously, his gaze stopping at her legs.  
Dear God what is it with men and women's legs? Hermione thought, as her face began to blush.  
"Good evening, mademoiselle, my name is Albus Dumbledore," he stated calmly, as he gave a slight bow. "And what might be yours?" 


	3. The Guest Chambers

"Dumbledore," she mumbled, awestruck. He really was quite handsome. He had the same kind and caring look in his eyes, which seemed to make him all the more alluring at his age. Realizing what an awkward silence this must be to him, Hermione ripped her mind back to the present. "It's Hermione Granger," she blurted out.  
He raised an eyebrow, and gained a very curious expression on his face.  
"I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, however, if you could do me a tremendous favor and tell me the password," she said as she motioned towards the portrait of the pink lady, "I'd be much obliged."  
Again he raised an eyebrow, as he glanced at her scarf. It was of the Gryffindor colors, and she seemed innocent enough. "Wattlebird," he stated, as the portrait swung open.  
"Thank you so much," Hermione gasped as she took a backwards glance over her shoulder, and scurried off into the girls' dormitories.  
The ever so polite "Not at all" which escaped Dumbledore's lips was barely heard. He was left standing alone in the corridor, quite confused, as the end-of-class bell sounded.  
Once Hermione reached the dormitories, she heaved a rather large sigh of relief. She had narrowly escaped total humiliation in front of dozens of people, even if that meant sacrificing her dignity to Albus Dumbledore. However, she was still going to have to face the horrifying questioning of several 6th year girls. Just then, something floating in front of the open iron cast window caught her eye. It appeared to be some sort of parchment. She walked closer to it, and found that it read the following:  
  
Ms. Granger: Guest chambers of the utmost privacy have been arranged for your stay. We don't want students pestering you for answers to their futures, now, do we? They are accessible only by the following spell cast upon this window: alloggiamenti dell'ospite.  
  
Hermione glanced up at the window, before looking back down at the parchment. The Headmaster was going through quite a lot of trouble for her. With just a few more seconds of practicing her pronouciation, she withdrew her wand. "Alloggiamenti dell'ospite!" she cried as the window transformed into a stony archway. As she took her first step towards it, shrill giggles were heard near the entrance to the dormitories. Her heart skipped a beat. "Dammit!" she screeched as she sprinted through the archway. The second her body had passed under it, a solid stone wall took its place. Hermione was now concealed inside the secret guest chambers of Gryffindor Tower. Its appearance was relatively simple, almost exactly the same as the regular girls' dormitory, only smaller.  
"Hello, madmoiselle!" a small voice squeaked.  
Hermione jumped. She whirled around only to come face to face with a house elf, holding three lovely black dresses.  
"Jenny is sorry to bother you, madmoiselle! Jenny only wishes to give you these!" the house elf said as she reached up on her tip toes to hand them to Hermione.  
"Thank you," she replied, as she held them up. The three were relatively similar. Each had a neckline which was low, yet flattering. The bodice was tight, but not too tight; and the skirt flowed gracefully to the ground, ending just over her toes. The dresses had sleeves, long ones, a little too long for Hermione's taste. However, the old fashioned Hogwarts robes, when worn over the dress, made this almost irrelevant. The robes were pretty much the same as Hermione's, save the added back buckle which tightened them a bit more around her waist. Jenny the house elf waited for her to change, to make sure that she had done it properly. She offered to put Hermione's hair up, and when she refused, the elf simply performed a straightening and cleaning spell to it, which added a smooth, silkly texture and a neat styling. Hermione spinned and twirled in front of a mirror, admiring herself, before Jenny tugged on the hem of her robes.  
"Ms. Granger must be reminded that it is 7:00! Dinner is waiting!"  
"Oh! Right, thank you, Jenny," she replied as she moved towards the stone wall where the entrance had been.  
"Jenny is supposed to show you the way out, Ms. Granger, it is this way!" The house elf hopped up and down as she pointed towards a portrait of a vase of flowers. "Just say the same spell, and it will open up to a passageway. Follow it, and you should come out near the Great Hall."  
"OK," Hermione said, feeling a bit nervous. "Alloggiamenti dell'ospite!" The potrait swung open, and just as Jenny had said, a passageway appeared.  
"Jenny hopes Miss will enjoy her dinner!" Jenny squeaked as she sccuried away.  
Hermione rushed forward. She didn't want to appear at the Great Hall during any conspicuous time, she just wanted to blend in. She followed the passage through some turns, slopes and curves, and soon found herself looking at the backside of a tapestry which she recognized as decor from the Entrance Hall. Listening to make sure no one was around, she pushed the tapestry aside and slipped out. It was like revealing herself to the world for the first time. She felt cold and uncertain, as if she knew that every person who saw her would immidiatly judge her, and claim her to be some sort of odd ball or missfit. Her shoulders curved as if they were attempting to hide her head. Her neck tingled as she walked, quickly, to the open doors of the Great Hall. 


	4. Dinner and Jealousy

A torrent of hushed whispers came her way as Hermione strode towards the Gryffindor table. All of the students seemed to have heard the story. Had the headmaster announced it? Or were they just curious as to why she was here? Trying to decide which seat to take, she noticed none other than Dumbledore motion for her to join him. She blushed as she took the place beside him.  
"You look quite different since our last encounter," Dumbledore said as he gestured towards her dress and robes. "I daresay these robes flatter you, and quite a bit more than your previous outfit."  
"Thank you," Hermione mumbled as she looked around at the food that was being served. Large turkey legs, corn, potpies, mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes; it all looked quite good.  
"Forgive me," Dumbledore said as he continued to stare at her. "But, where is it that you come from?"  
Several of the students around them perked their ears up. All of them were dying for a bit of gossip, Hermione could tell.  
" I, well, um," Hermione wasn't sure whether she was allowed to tell them or not. Instinctively, she glanced up at the staff table. The headmaster, seemingly aware of what was going on, nodded to her. This shocked her slightly, before she took a breath and continued, "It was a bit of an accident, how I got here, really," she said as she trailed off, wondering how to explain. Dumbledore tilted his head to one side, his eyes prying into hers, begging for more of the story. "You see, I own a time turner." At this, she pulled the chain that she still had in her possession out of her pocket. All that remained on it was a broken golden link and a small piece of glass attached to it. "I often use it to take two classes at once here at Hogwarts."  
"Here at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked, "You mean, you've always attended,"  
"The question you should be asking shouldn't be so much as where I attended school, but when I attended it," Hermione interrupted him; she wanted to be sure he didn't get the details wrong, the last thing she needed was the wrong impression. Dumbledore continued to stare, his expression once again awe struck. "I was just about to use my time turner, when it got caught on my shirt, and broke from its chain. I reached out to grab it, but it broke in my fist. The next thing I knew, I was flying backwards in the time turners' portal. When the ride ended, I found myself here, in 1869."  
"Backwards," Dumbledore repeated. "So, you're a student from the future, whose time turner backfired, and sent you reeling to us, eh?"  
Hermione's face flushed once more. "Be as sarcastic as you like, Mr. Dumbledore, but it's the truth," she spat as she reached for some potpie. Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder.  
"Forgive me, I'm sure that it is, indeed, the truth. Besides, where else would you obtain such odd garments?" he teased as he shot her a wry smile.  
"Now, honestly, how much of a kick can one person get over a skirt?" she asked as she grabbed her fork and knife.  
"How much of a kick?" Dumbledore repeated, questioningly.  
"Oh, I mean, how much pleasure," she corrected herself. She really needed to teach herself to stop using such modern terminology.  
"Ah. Interesting tongue you speak in, really. So when exactly is it that witches and wizards begin to dress and talk like you?"  
Hermione swallowed and cleared her throat. "Ah, that would be the year 2003," she answered, hesitantly. She wasn't sure how he was going to react to that little slice of information.  
"One hundred and thirty four years into the future." he mumbled, before taking a bite of corn. "No guarantee I'll be alive then, now, is there?"  
Hermione coughed slightly, as she attempted to suppress a chuckle. "No, I suppose not." she answered, hoping to God that when she returned to 2003, he'd remember this conversation.  
"Well, it's not really as impossible as all that, is it?" he asked, misinterpreting her giggles entirely.  
"No, no of course not!" she replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.  
There was a moment of silence. The students surrounding them were obviously passing her story on to others; soon, her little experience would be common knowledge.  
"What is it that you enjoy doing during your free time, Ms. Granger, do you have any hobbies?" Dumbledore asked, still apparently interested in what she had to say.  
"Well, I daresay both school and my friends keep me busy enough," she started, "I suppose a lot of my free time is dedicated to my studies. I am in my 6th year after all, N.E.W.T.'s, you know."  
"I, as well, am in my 6th year," Dumbledore replied.  
Hermione grinned. "We'll have classes together, then!" she exclaimed.  
  
Dumbledore's face lit up. "Well that's right, isn't it? I can't wait to see what you can do. If you're starting tomorrow, we have charms and transfiguration!"  
*My two best subjects!* Hermione thought as she squealed with delight. "Excellent, I quite enjoy transfiguration," she said, trying not to sound too excited.  
"I do too, it's the subject I succeed in most," he replied.  
Hermione grinned inwardly. She could have guessed this, because she was aware of the fact that one day he would become the transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts.  
"Well, what is it that you enjoy doing during your free time?" Hermione asked, she didn't want to make this conversation all about her.  
Dumbledore sat thoughtfully for a moment, before responding, "I enjoy knitting."  
"Knitting?" Hermione asked.  
"Yes, especially during the winter time. I always make myself a nice, thick pair of woolen socks," he said.  
Hermione was impressed. No boy in the 21st century would ever admit that their favorite pass time was knitting. "I suppose you've gotten quite good at it, then," she replied.  
Dumbledore shrugged. He reached down and lifted up his pant leg just enough so that the brim of his woolen sock was revealed. It was gray, and relatively neat.  
Hermione smiled at him. "It looks good to me!" she exclaimed.  
Dumbledore beamed at her. "You know, you're the first girl I've ever met who didn't supply me with the oddest of looks after I informed them of my interest in knitting," he said, as he winked at her. Once again, Hermione smiled. "And your smile is so very lovely," he added, as he turned back to his food, somewhat sheepish about his comment.  
"Thank you," she mumbled, as heat rose in her face.  
After dinner, the two began to make their way back to Gryffindor Tower. Anyone observing them would think that they've known each other for years. Their chatting was incessant, and lively. Suddenly, Hermione noticed a harsh hissing behind her. She turned around to observe three girls, all dressed in gowns considered far more elegant than Hermione's, marching towards them. The dresses had hems and necklines that were decorated with lace and silk ribbon, and their hair was tied back in various extravagant patterns of buns, braids and twists. Their necks and wrists graced expensive gem and pearl jewelry. They were Gryffindor 6th years. When they got close enough, the three shoved by them, elbowing Hermione rather roughly in the stomach. She coughed slightly, but straightened up almost immediately. Dumbledore, who was shocked at the girl's behavior, ran ahead to confront them.  
"It's quite alright, Albus, I'm fine!" she called to him.  
"It's the principal of the thing, Hermione, I can't allow them to get away with this," he stated as he caught up with the girls. "Pardon me, Victoria, Emily, Margaret," he said as he nodded his head towards each.  
"Yes?" the three replied, with high-pitched mockery in each voice.  
"I do believe that as you passed by us you handled my new friend rather roughly." As he said this, he put his arm around Hermione's waist. "And if I'm not mistaken, an apology in order?"  
All three looked as if they wanted to spit in Hermione's face. Slowly, one of them coughed out, "Oh, I do beg your pardon,"  
"Yes, I as well."  
"And me too," the third added.  
Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, ladies, I bid you good night."  
The three gave him the most horrifically evil smiles Hermione had ever seen, as they shuffled away, without so much as a glance towards her. Dumbledore watched them leave with his upper lip curled in disgust. Only when they turned a corner did he cease his death glare, and turn back to Hermione.  
"I'm so terribly sorry about them, most of the people here are quite likable, it's the ones with money that you must look out for."  
Hermione nodded. "I don't mind, really, they were nothing compared to some of the foul creatures I have to deal with back at home," she replied, in a calming sort of way.  
"I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea about most of the people here."  
"I understand."  
The two stayed silent as they continued walking. Dumbledore's arm still remained on Hermione's waist. She enjoyed feeling the weight of it as she walked. It slipped away only to gently nudge her towards the entrance behind the pink lady's portrait. Slightly disappointed that their walk had come to an end, she turned to him to say goodnight. However, before she could say anything, Dumbledore had taken her hand, and kissed it. Hermione noted that it lasted a bit longer than she would have thought customary.  
"Have a pleasant sleep," he mumbled, almost dreamily.  
"I will," she replied, "and thank you, for all of your help."  
"It was my pleasure," he cooed. As he backed away, eyes unwavering from Hermione's graceful smile, he bumped into the back of an armchair. He straightened his back almost immediately upon contact, as he turned sharply, and headed towards the boy's dormitories. Hermione could see his cheeks flushing from the side. She chuckled silently. Who knew Dumbledore had been such a goof ball? She started up the stairs, her mind still drifting through the pleasant conversations she and Dumbledore had shared, until all of it came to a hideous, screeching halt. She had just realized something. She had to walk through the girl's main dormitory room before getting to her own. Those girls, Victoria, Margaret and Emily. . . they were 6th years, they'd be in there, pestering her. And what about the password? They'd hear her say the spell, and that'd be it for her privacy. Did the headmaster expect her to always use the tapestry? Or was that simply for exiting? It would have to be, otherwise anyone who knew about it could get into Gryffindor tower. "Dammit," she mumbled, as she took in a deep breath, and opened the door.  
The sight that met her eyes wasn't pretty.  
"Ahhhhhhhhhh well look who it is," screeched one of the girls, (Hermione thought it was Victoria) "It's Albus's new bitch."  
The three girls cackled. Hermione rolled her eyes, as she made her way towards the window.  
"Where do you expect to sleep?" one of the girls cried, "There aren't any extra beds!"  
"Maybe the headmaster told her to sleep on the floor, like the dog she is," Victoria laughed, as she glared at Hermione, just waiting to get a rise out of her.  
"Alloggiamenti dell'ospite," Hermione whispered to her wand, as the archway appeared.  
The other girls in the room gasped, as they ran forward. Hermione attempted to pass through before they had a chance, but the girl nearest her grabbed her shoulders and shoved her, hard, to the ground. The girl was quite short and pudgy; and Hermione could've sworn she saw certain similarities between her and Harry's cousin, Dudley. When Hermione shook her head and looked up, she was sure that she would see the girls busily ransacking her room. However, to her joy, none of them appeared to be able to pass under the archway. Victoria screeched as she pounded on an unseen force which failed to grant her entry. Smiling to herself, Hermione struted forward, as she cleared her throat.  
"Now that you've all had your fun, would you mind allowing me to pass into my chambers?"  
Victoria scoffed at her. "What makes you think that you'll be able to get in if none of us can?" she spat.  
Hermione snorted. "If you don't think I can get through, then why not let me by? Don't you want to see me fail at it?"  
Victoria haughtily raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Make an utter fool of yourself, all the more fun for us."  
The other girls laughed, as they parted to let Hermione through. In an attempt to make herself look at confident as possible, Hermione straightened, squared back her shoulders, and strutted towards the archway. Just as she had expected, she walk right under it. She turned around just in time to see the girl's angry faces vanish, and a stone wall taking the archway's place.  
"Jesus, take a chill pill," Hermione mumbled to herself, as she continued to stare at the place where the girls had just stood. She shook herself a little and began to pry herself out of her tight dress. Flattering though it was, she would take her loose, comfy blouse any day. "I suppose I have 19th centuy sexism to blame for this," she grunted as she finnally managed to remove the bodice. A nightgown had been placed on a chair next to her night stand, she slipped into it and climbed into bed. Her brain felt heavy and weighed down. Her body was exhausted, yet her mind was buzzing with the information it had recieved throughout the day.  
Will I ever get home?  
The thought appeared vividly in the center of her brain. Harry, Ron, the professors, would she ever see them again? Why was it that they weren't traveling back into the past, rescuing her from this place?  
Because they don't know when you traveled to.  
This voice was getting quite annoying. It's true, most of them would have no idea what time period she was thrown into, except for one man.  
Dumbledore.  
She wasn't entirely sure how time travel worked, but if she had to guess, she'd say that whoever's history she was changing, those who were still alive in 2003 were recieving memories that were new to them. Memories which they could've sworn they didn't have before. If she wanted them to realize what time period she had been sent back to, she would have to make a profound impact on Dumbledore's memories, because she had about 150 years worth of events that she had to make herself stand out in. Otherwise, it may never occur to him to think back into the far reaches of his brain where he kept his thoughts of his school days.  
All that came to her brain after that was a dull buzzing. A profound impact? What kind of impact?  
Of course she knew the answer which her brain had been concealing from her, the answer which most anyone could think of, the answer which she desperatly wished she could ignore.  
Love.  
But was it right to use him in such a way? To make him fall in love with her, in order for his 150 year old self to remember, and come to her, lacking the respect he once had for her?  
You don't have to pretend.  
There it was, the voice again. She stared at the ceiling, wide eyed. No, perhaps not. But it was ridiculous to be thinking such thoughts, she had only met him a few hours ago. How pathetic and cliche would it be, to believe in love at first sight?  
She turned to her side, and curled up tightly in a ball. Her insides were squirming. She needed to get to sleep if she was going to start classes tomorrow. Hermione rolled her eyes at herself.  
She was only starting classes to impress him.  
Cursing her inner voice, Hermione drifted off into a rough and uneasy sleep. 


	5. Charms Class and Seduction

"What the hell is that noise?" Hermione's brain demanded, as she slowly pried her eyes apart.  
There was a pounding from the other side of the portrait of the flower vase. Alarmed, she tore the bed sheets off of herself, as she grabbed her wand from her bedside table. "Alloggiamenti dell'ospite," she said, as enthusiastically as possible. When the portrait swung open, Jenny the house elf was found, standing there, looking quite embarassed.  
"Jenny is sorry to have to wake you up in such a manner, Jenny is forgetting the house elf's passageway into the Gryffindor guest chambers!"  
  
"Oh, that's alright, Jenny," Hermione yawned as she rubbed her head. Her vision wasn't all that clear quite yet, and she was feeling slightly dizzy from getting up so fast.  
"Does Miss need help changing?" Jenny asked, as she peered around Hermione's legs towards the two untouched dresses.  
"Oh, no, I'm sure I can manage," she replied as she waved her hand towards the clothes. "What's that you have in your hands?"  
"This?" the house elf asked, as she lifted up a piece of parchment, "'tis your class schedule. The headmaster asked me to deliver it to you."  
"Right, my schedule, thanks Jenny."  
The house elf gave her a small grin as she waved goodbye, and headed back down the passageway. Hermione sighed. She felt exhausted just thinking about the amount of work she had ahead of her, to make herself look presentable for class. . .  
One hour later, Hermione slipped out from behind the tapestry in the Entrance Hall. She found that her toils over her appearance that morning had really paid off; her confidence was much higher than it had been the previous night. Her hair was tied back in a nicely braided bun, and her dress had lace bordering the neckline. She had been anxious all morning to find out whether or not Dumbledore would find her attractive, what with her different dress and hairstyle. *I'll know the second I look into his eyes. . .* Hermione thought to herself, as she marched towards the Great Hall.  
When Dumbledore spotted Hermione entering the room, he practically leapt out of his seat to meet her. His eyes were bright and shining, as he scuttled past the students and tables which, as of now, were simply obstacles in his path towards her. Hermione grinned when he offered her his arm, in order to escort her to a seat at the Gryffindor table.  
*You'll go dopey for anyone who gives you this kind of attention, won't you?* Hermione hissed to herself, as she sat down next to him. *Remember, you still haven't decided if it's a good idea to get involved in this way!*  
Hermione was just about to answer to her thoughts, when they seemingly evaporated, as she turned just in time to see Dumbledore's dashing smile. Her conscience was growing weaker by the second.  
"So," Hermione began, "what have you been working on in charms class?"  
"Renforcez, the strengthening charm. It allows the user to become five times as strong as they normally are," Dumbledore replied.  
"Yes, I've heard of that one," Hermione paused as she attempted to recall what she had read about it, "the charm can be used on inanimate objects as well, in order to increase their durability."  
Dumbledore seemed impressed. "The curriculum remains the same for quite some time, I see."  
"Well, actually, we haven't gotten to that spell in our charms class quite yet. I've only read about them in the library. . ." at this, Hermione trailed off, slightly embarrassed. She must seem like such a bookworm, to have read ahead like that.  
However, to her relief, Dumbledore replied, "I, too, often find myself studying independently. It allows me to better prepare myself for the upcoming material, and I believe it improves my test scores."  
All Hermione could do was stare at him. No one could have said anything sexier to her. He uses his free time to, "better prepare himself for the upcoming material?"  
Dumbledore glanced down at his silver pocket watch. "Ah, look at the time! Class will start soon, shall we go?" Standing up, he offered her his arm once again.  
"Thank you," she said, as she took it.  
When they arrived in the charms classroom, a tall, dark haired man stood at the front of the room to greet them. He was rather pale, with strongly arched eyebrows and deep, brown eyes.  
"Ah, you must be Ms. Granger," he said as she strode towards her. "My name is Professor Grimqui, I hope you're finding your stay here comfortable."  
"Yes, indeed I am, thank you, professor," she said nervously, as she gave him a slight bow.  
He smiled warmly to her as he motioned towards the seats. More students were beginning to filter in behind them, and many of them whispered and pointed towards Hermione as they walked by. She heard a Hufflepuff boy remark, "I wonder if she's halfway decent. . ."  
"Alright, students, quiet down now," Professor Grimqui said as he settled himself into a position in the center of the room. "As you all know, we have been working on the strengthening spell, renforcez. During this class period, I am going to allow you to pick a partner, in order to try performing the spell on him or her. Now remember, this spell is guaranteed to be seen on the practical section of your charms N.E.W.T, so make sure to practice it well."  
Hermione gulped. Her N.E.W.T.'s, was she going to have to take them here? What if she hadn't studied the same material as Dumbledore and the others? Wouldn't the ministry be forced to make an exception, if that were the case? Create some sort of assessment that was appropriate for her? She had little time to ponder this, however; Dumbledore had already started to make his way towards the open area of the classroom. Alarmed, Hermione quickly stood up to follow him.  
"Alright, do you want to go first?" Dumbledore asked, as he puffed out his chest. He seemed slightly fearful, as if she were about to hit him with a stunning spell.  
"O.K.," Hermione mumbled as she took in a deep breath. She had performed the spell before, and quite well, she might add. He really shouldn't be so worried. "Renforcez!" she cried.  
A jet of royal blue light shot from her wand. Dumbledore stumbled slightly upon contact; however, when the glow subsided, he had an excited look on his face.  
"I-I think you did it!" he exclaimed, as he beamed at her. Professor Grimqui, who had been watching closely, strode over to the two.  
"Incredible Ms. Granger, just incredible. There hasn't been one student yet who has performed the spell successfully, yet you stroll on in here and on your first try, you seal the spell flawlessly! Go ahead, Mr. Dumbledore, lift up one of the weights I have set out."  
Dumbledore quickly made his way over to a 500-pound weight, which he seized up with ease. He held it high above his head, grinning all the while.  
"Yes, that will do, Mr. Dumbledore. 20 points to Gryffindor, for Ms. Granger's impressive performance!"  
A few of the students clapped, the rest of them simply glowered. Hermione imagined what it must be like to be shown up by a girl who already stood out because of her accident. Heat rose in her face as Dumbledore came rushing back to her.  
"Are you ready for me to try the spell on you?" he asked.  
"Ya, sure. . ." she mumbled as she attempted to shake her mind away from her worries.  
The rest of charms ran smoothly after that. Dumbledore, too, managed to perform the spell on Hermione. She had some fun by lifting a 100-pound weight with one arm. Transfiguration, which Hermione had been looking forward to, turned out to be somewhat dull. The teacher, a short, scrawny and somewhat hunch-backed woman, assigned bookwork for the class period. Dumbledore, however, spiced things up for her a bit when he slipped her a sugar quill to suck on while she wrote. He himself was enjoying a sack of lemon drops, which he kept hidden in his robes. It wasn't hard to sneak candy during the class anyway; Ms. Rosenthal failed to notice most of the things the students were doing behind her back.  
"She really is rather thick," Dumbledore whispered to Hermione, as Ms. Rosenthal leaned back lazily in her plush armchair, dazing off into space. The two of them giggled silently. When the laughter subsided, Hermione felt a slight tingling sensation on the back of her neck. She looked behind her only to see those three Gryffindor girls, Victoria, Emily and Margaret, in the far corner of the room, positively glaring at her. She grimaced slightly, and wondered whether it would be a good idea to tell Dumbledore about the other night.  
*Best not to worry him,* she thought to herself.  
When class ended, and Ms. Rosenthal bid them no means of a goodbye, rather than offer Hermione his arm, as usual, Dumbledore put his arm around her waist again. Hermione smiled at him. She was very appreciative of the gesture, but she was slightly nervous as to how Victoria, Emily and Margaret would react. She tried not to look at them as they exited the classroom, but it was to no avail. When they had traveled not far down the corridor, the three caught up to them, and cut them off.  
"Good afternoon, Albus," they sang, as they grinned and curtsied.  
  
"Ladies," he replied nonchalantly, nodding to each.  
The girls gave each other knowing looks, as they turned their attention towards Hermione.  
"We just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done in charms today!" Victoria exclaimed.  
Hermione raised an eyebrow.  
"Ya!" Margaret pitched in, "marvelously done!"  
"Absolutely!" Emily added.  
"Thank you," Hermione replied, still remaining skeptical.  
"Yes, well, the three of us were talking and we were just wondering. . ." Victoria curled her hair between the fingers of her left hand, as she reached her right into her pockets, "How are you with curses?"  
At this, Victoria whipped out her wand, as did the other three. Hermione, who had been keenly aware of what Victoria was doing, snatched hers out to meet them. Dumbledore, who was utterly shocked at the girl's behavior, withdrew his as well.  
"Honestly, let's stop all of this Tom-foolery!" he exclaimed.  
"I will if you will, Albus!" Victoria screeched. "Why is it that you fascinate over her so!? There's nothing extraordinary about the girl at all, to swoon over her is utter nonsense!"  
"You think so? I happen to find her to be extremely intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful. . .and above all, moral; a trait that one sees less and less of these days."  
Victoria, Margaret and Emily gawked at him.  
"You don't honestly believe that no one heard about the scene in the girls' dormitories last night, do you? Please, that Meredith Trevethan is one of the biggest gossips I've ever met."  
Panic was now clearly visible in the three girls eyes. All seemed frozen with fear, until,  
"Rictusempra!" Emily shouted. Hermione found herself stumbling backwards, however, she still remained on her feet.  
"That really was quite pitiful. You know, of course, that when done properly the victim is thrown off of his or her own feet, and forced back by at least seven feet?" teased Hermione, as she eyed Emily. The other two remained too shocked to do anything. "Here's a simple little jinx for you. Petrificus Totalis!"  
The three froze, their limbs snapped to their sides, and their balanced failed. Victoria, Emily and Margaret were left face down in the center of the corridor for all to see.  
"I learned that in my first year," Hermione said to Dumbledore, "I can't believe they didn't block it!"  
All he could do was grin at her.  
"What?" Hermione asked, "You don't disapprove of what I did, do you?"  
"Not in the least," Dumbledore replied, still smiling.  
"Well good then, I'd hate to lose my reputation for being, oh what was it, intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful. . .and above all, moral." She gazed up into his eyes, a smile spreading across her lips.  
Dumbledore looked nervous now. He bit his lower lip, and began to shuffle his feet.  
Hermione simply nudged him in the side. "That was quite sweet of you, thank you."  
Relief seemed to flood over his face. "Anytime," he choked as he gingerly placed one shaky arm back on her waist. "And, might I add, I so do admire a woman who can defend herself."  
Dumbledore was rewarded for his bold move with a return embrace. Hermione had wrapped her arm around him as well, pulling him closer to her. Lucky for them, the halls were nearly deserted; most everyone had made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. No one was any the wiser that the new comer, Hermione Granger, had seduced the desperately sought after Albus Dumbledore. 


	6. A Much Needed Adventure

"H-H-Hermione?"  
Hermione groaned. "Go away, Jenny, it's Saturday. Can't I just sleep?"  
"It's Albus, Hermione."  
"Albus!" Hermione screeched as her eyes shot open. Her sheets were barely covering her upper body, which was a concern due to the extremely low cut neckline on her white nightgown. She grabbed as much sheeting as she possibly could to cover herself, while rubbing her eyes furiously.  
"I'm so terribly sorry! I wouldn't have come up if the house elf Jenny hadn't sent me! She showed me the passageway through the Entrance Hall, and told me to check on you. She said she would have done it herself, if she wasn't so very busy in the kitchen. I assumed you would be awake, it is 1:30 after all and. . ."  
"It's quite alright Albus," she said, cutting him off. "I appreciate you waking me up. Don't worry so, I'm glad to see you." Hermione smiled, even though her insides were screaming at the tops of their lungs. Dear God, she must look like something the cat hacked up. "If you'll just excuse me for a moment," she added, abruptly, as she ripped off the bed covers and skidded into the bathroom.  
"Of course," Dumbledore replied, barely above a whisper.  
Hermione wrenched open the door and quickly clicked it shut behind her. A mirror promptly greeted her as she entered the room. She walked towards it, slowly; almost afraid of what would be staring back at her. However, to her great relief, she didn't look half bad. Her hair may be slightly disheveled, and her dress may be a bit too revealing, but other than that. . .  
After a few short minutes of some of her favorite cleaning and tidying spells, she threw on her spare dress, which, luckily, she had placed on the counter top next to the sink the night before. Her head was still a bit foggy, and her mind was spinning. She was about to open the door to greet him when, as an afterthought, she performed the following spell on herself: "gout de citron." Now, for the next few hours, her mouth will taste and smell of lemons. *Why on earth did you use that spell? Do you really think it'll come in handy?* she asked herself, as she opened the door.  
Dumbledore was found sitting on the bed, his shoulders hunched over and his head dangling like a dead weight.  
"Sorry if I kept you waiting," Hermione said, walking towards him.  
"Not at all," he replied, as he slowly lifted his head. It looked as though it took him a great amount of effort to do so. "I'd just like to apologize once again, I really didn't mean to intrude-"  
At that moment, something in Hermione's brain clicked. Whatever Dumbledore was saying, she wasn't hearing it. It was all white noise. She found herself walking towards the bed, and sitting down next to him. Her mind was no longer in control. There was only a dull understanding inside of her, telling her that what she was doing was right. That teasing, flirting and even- dare she think it- kissing him was perfectly fine. There was a brief pause when she couldn't help but ask herself the following question: was this blind craving for Dumbledore's lips simply a strong hormonal urge that she couldn't fight; that was forcing her to go against many of the moral fibers which she held deep inside of her? A sudden lack of ethical objection washed over her, as her mind boldly shouted, *oh, who the fuck cares?*  
Letting go of her inner torment, she closed her eyes, and delicately pressed her full, red lips against his soft, warm ones.  
Dumbledore immediately hushed up. His muscles tensed. His neck straightened. When Hermione's lips parted, she began to feel a bit nervous. Had she acted too quickly? Would he accept what she had just done?  
He took in a long, rasping breath, before whispering, "You're very lovely, Hermione."  
Hermione smiled. That was just the kind of response she had hoped for. "And you're very handsome, Albus," she whispered back, as she rested her head against his shoulder. There was a moment of somewhat awkward silence. Hermione noticed that Dumbledore couldn't quite manage to keep his breathing regular, so she decided to break the silence. "So, did you have any plans for today? I'd love to see what you do to entertain yourself on the weekends."  
Dumbledore sat up. A mischievous smile had suddenly spread across his face, as he made his way towards his brown leather bag, which sat in the far corner of the room. He unbuckled the two clasps, and flipped back the weighted leather flap. What met Hermione's eyes sent her mind reeling back to the Hogwarts she knew and loved, with Harry, Ron and the others. An array of heart-felt excursions such as hidden trips to Hagrid's hut, or heroic quests to save one creature or another, came racing through her mind like a flipping picture book. Tears were beginning to flood her vision, as Albus Dumbledore's invisibility cloak spilled across the bedroom floor.  
"Hermione, do you know what this is?" he asked.  
"Yes, it's an invisibility cloak. I. . . know a boy at my school who owns one."  
"Every other weekend or so, I like to sneak out of the castle with a few of my friends to Hogsmeade- it's been like a tradition since our third year. There's a secret passage, through a statue of a one-eyed witch, which is unknown to any prefect or professor. If you want, we could go and. . ." he trailed off, apparently unsure of what to say next. Hermione started feeling quite excited. This was just the kind of thing she had been craving, an adventure. Her life had always been filled with events like these when she was around Harry; a little rule breaking was just what she needed to feel right at home.  
"It sounds absolutely wonderful," she said, now walking towards the cloak.  
"Really? You're not afraid of getting caught?"  
"Please, we could get caught doing worse things than this," she replied as she picked up the cloak, and slipped it over the two of them. The cloak was a bit smaller than Harry's, so the two had to squish together to stay hidden.  
"Why are we putting the cloak on now?" Dumbledore asked.  
"So that I have an excuse to walk this close to you through the halls," Hermione giggled.  
Dumbledore's eyes widened, and his cheeks blushed. "Oh," he replied, sheepishly.  
"Alloggiamenti dell'ospite," Hermione whispered as she pointed her wand towards the portrait of the flower vase.  
The two made their way through the passage (with Dumbledore giggling all the while, finding it quite amusing that Hermione insisted on staying invisible) and into the Entrance Hall.  
"We have to get up to the third floor corridor, that's where the statue is," Dumbledore said, pointing towards the staircase.  
The rest of the trip was in silence. Students and teachers were everywhere to be seen, milling around through the halls.  
"Isn't that it?" Hermione asked, spotting the statue halfway down the hallway.  
Dumbledore nodded, while pulling his wand out of his robe pocket. "Dissendium," he whispered, tapping the stone witch on her hump. Promptly, the hump opened. "Just follow me," he said, as he made his way to hoist himself up.  
Hermione reached out after him, and took hold of his shoulders. "We'll never be able to stay under the cloak together, let's just take it off and dive through the opening as quickly as possible."  
"That sounds like a challenge to me. . ."  
"Albus!"  
Dumbledore, who was too quick for Hermione, reached down, grabbed her by the thighs, and hoisted her onto his back.  
"Now wait, Albus, be reasonable, can we really fit like this. . ."  
"We'll just have to see!" he exclaimed, as he started a mad dash towards the opening. Dumbledore used every ounce of leg strength he possessed to push the two of them up off the ground, just high enough so that they tumbled forwards, and cleared the entrance.  
"ALBUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!" Hermione screamed. They were now careening down a rather steep stone slide.  
"I can't believe I cleared it!" he yelled, grabbing Hermione and holding her close to him.  
A look of sheer panic appeared on her face. "You mean you had doubts!" she shrieked.  
Suddenly, the joy ride ended. Both flew off of the slide, and landed on the cool, damp earth.  
"Ow," Dumbledore mumbled. His face was being crushed by Hermione's stomach. Hermione leapt up.  
"I'm so sorry Albus, are you alright?" she asked.  
"Ya, ya I'm fine!" he assured her, giving her a dopey grin. "That was some ride, wasn't it? Fantastic!"  
Hermione laughed, and reached down to give him a hand. "So where does this tunnel lead to?"  
Dumbledore dusted himself off, before responding, "Ah, that would be to the cellar of Honeydukes, one of the greatest sweet shops imaginable!"  
Hermione restrained herself from commenting on Honeydukes' age. Instead she nodded, put on her eager face, and got going.  
The passage was crooked and twisted, and the ground was rough and uneven, with roots and weeds sticking out in the oddest of places. Had it not been for the light emitting from Dumbledore's wand, the two wouldn't have known up from down. The air was thick, wet, and chilling. Hermione was shivering uncontrollably, until Dumbledore wrapped her in the excess material of his outer cloak. The rest of their journey was spent huddled together, through the rough and unstable dirt tunnel. Hermione clutched the front of his robes, in an attempt to pull herself closer to his body heat. They parted only to march up the much-awaited staircase, which led to Honeydukes' cellar. 


	7. The Only Way Home

"Ow! God dammit. . ." Hermione hissed, as she reached her hand out from under the warmth of Dumbledore's cloak, to rub the top of her head.  
"There's the cellar door," Dumbledore said, reaching up and pushing it outwards.  
The basement was quite cluttered; barrels and crates were stacked up against the wooden walls, which appeared to be in need of a good amount of dusting.  
"There's the staircase up to Honeydukes over there," Dumbledore whispered, pointing straight ahead. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was there, both jogged towards the staircase and trotted, lightly, up the splintery wooden steps. Hermione began to hear the busy, chatting voices and creaking floorboards under the weight of the many customers above. The large number of people made it much easier for them to slip into the crowd from around the counter, unnoticed.  
"It's always so busy in here," Dumbledore said, now bustling towards a rather large display of sweets.  
"Oh look, sugar quills!" Hermione exclaimed.  
"And lemon drops,"  
"And toffees,"  
"And Fizzing Whizzbees,"  
"And Bertie Botts,"  
"Ah ha! And yes, by golly they finally got in a new shipment of sherbet lemon!" Dumbledore roared, proudly holding up a neatly tied purple package.  
Hermione gave him a toothy grin. She found the childish joy that Dumbledore received from the candy shop simply adorable. The excitement he felt over the littlest of things made Hermione even more thrilled about being there with him. She watched him happily bounce from one display to another, popping incredibly large amounts of nearly everything into his satchel.  
"Hey Hermione, did you see the chocolates!?"  
"Ooh, do they have dark chocolate?" she asked, it was her favorite.  
"Naturally! What kind of sweet shop would this be without such a necessity as dark chocolate?"  
"Of course," she giggled, stuffing a few coconut clusters in her bag.  
  
After a few more moments of ogling the abundant sweet stands, Dumbledore and Hermione paid for their candy, and left the store.  
"Where shall we go next?" Hermione asked, looking around, trying to figure out what exactly was different about Hogsmeade.  
"How about The Three Broomsticks? Have you ever tried a glass of Butterbeer? It warms the heart. . ." he grinned, placing his hand over his chest.  
"Sure! I love butterbeer!" she exclaimed.  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. There was a brief pause before he decided to open his mouth, and speak what had clearly been rattling around in his brain. "I suppose Hogsmeade doesn't seem too different, eh?"  
"Oh no it's. . ." Hermione stopped short, before looking up at him, and continuing, "it's exactly the same."  
Dumbledore chuckled. "I assumed so, judging by your reaction towards Honeydukes. No one who enters that shop for the first time restrains themselves to simply 5 coconut clusters, 4 sugar quills, one pound of toffees and one pound of Bertie Botts! There's not one witch nor wizard alive who possesses that kind of self control, I mean. . . honestly. . ." He held his head briefly, as if attempting to contemplate such an occurrence, and failing. Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed him on the cheek.  
"Alright, you caught me. So the town's the same, the shops are the same, the castle is the same. Happy?"  
Dumbledore grinned and nodded. "I knew you were holding back. You can tell so very easily when something reminds you of home. . ."  
Hermione's eyes widened. A small gasp escaped her lips, as she reeled her head back to look into his face. A knowing look seemed to have been etched upon his features. She continued to stare, intensely, attempting to read his expression. Did he know? He. . .he couldn't. . .  
"Hermione, the first time we met, after I told you my name. . . you mumbled Dumbledore again, as if you'd heard it before. I may be completely wrong; please, correct me if I am. . . however," he paused, unsure as to how to continue. Hermione had no idea what to say. How could she keep on lying to him like this? What was the point of concealing the truth, anyhow? If she simply told him that yes, she knew him, then perhaps that would be enough. She wouldn't have to tell him of his future position as Headmaster at Hogwarts. Because if she did, who knows how that would upset the timeline. But the thing that terrified her, that kept her hiding the truth, was exactly that: what if she accidentally changed history for the worst? What if some sort of action she performs here prevents him from achieving all of the marvelous things she knew he was destined for? He was a necessity in the future to help defeat Lord Voldemort, and save the life of Harry.  
"I suppose you can't tell me, can you?"  
Hermione shook her head. She must have been silent for longer than she thought.  
"Don't worry, I completely understand," he said winking at her. This brightened her, slightly, but that didn't stop the tears from brimming in the corners of her eyes. Something inside her was tearing itself apart. She so longed to tell him everything. To explain to him how much she cared for him, to confess her awareness of what he would become, and to completely entrench herself in the feelings which were undeniably brewing inside of her. Unable to stand it any longer, Hermione threw her arms tightly around his middle, and squeezed herself close to him. It didn't take long for him to embrace her in return.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, still attempting to hold back her tears. She was comforted by an even tighter squeeze. After a few more moments, Dumbledore gently let go, and reached his arm up to tilt her head back by her chin; his fingers were soft and warm against her skin. Hermione's tears seemed to be illuminating the swirling shades of brown in her eyes, as she gazed deeply into his warm, blue ones. Slowly, the two leaned towards each other, and kissed. Warmth immediately spread throughout Hermione's body. His hands, which had been holding up her chin before, had slid back into her hair. His fingers worked their way gently through her scalp, massaging and tickling the roots of her hair. Hermione's muscles seemed to give way to his touch, as her arms glided heavily down his back, and to her sides. The kiss then became all the more gentle and loving, as Dumbledore delicately placed both hands on her hips, and pulled her closer to him.  
Hermione felt as though this could go on forever.  
  
'Too bad it can't'  
  
It was the voice again. 'If you keep this up, he'll remember for sure, and then it'll be over. You'll be taken back.'  
The tears threatened to start flowing more heavily again.  
'NO!' screamed another voice; a new one, a strong one. 'No, you will not ruin your happiness with him. You know it's inevitable that you go back, staying would be foolish. You belong with your parents, Harry, Ron, and everyone else you've grown close to over the years. So why not enjoy your time while you're here? Why not savor the love you've found?'  
And with that, the hidden passion she felt welled inside of her was released, and the kiss became more and more heated.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione sank down into the plush, brightly colored armchair which sat facing a flickering fire in Gryffindor Tower. Dumbledore was currently walking up to the boy's dormitory, after kissing her lightly on the cheek, and giving her right shoulder a gentle squeeze goodbye. Nearly everyone who had been situated in the common room at the time stared at the two, appalled by the blatant display of affection they showed towards one another. Hermione really didn't care; back at home, it wouldn't have surprised her terribly to see a couple like Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson making out in a corner. A kiss on the cheek hardly seemed like the scandal of the century.  
She leaned back, lifted her feet and rested them atop an overly stuffed footstool. Her nose felt cold, numb and red; and her limbs ached with exhaustion. She always found this feeling somewhat rewarding, the feeling that she had accomplished something physically demanding, therefore justifying her relaxed state. Her dry eyes delicately shut, in an attempt to close out all outer noise.  
What a day it had been. She had finally come to grips with her feelings towards Dumbledore, and he knew it too (Hermione was pretty sure passionate tongue kissing delivered the message quite nicely). Now all she had to do was cope with her extreme discomfort concerning the elder Dumbledore. She received the sudden urge to ram her head into a wall, or dig herself a hole every time her mind wandered towards him. How could she possibly explain it to him if and when he remembered all of this? The mere thought of him, sitting at his desk, scribbling down one important letter or another and suddenly being blind sided with the memory of her, shall we say, rather robust performance that day was too much for her. She hastily massaged her temples in an effort to rub the thought away.  
'Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit!' her mind screeched, as the image began fading slightly. Suddenly, she found she couldn't bear to sit still. Ripping herself upright and propelling herself to a standing position, she marched towards the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.  
  
"Hermione Granger!"  
Hermione froze in mid step. Oh God, who could that be. She quickly turned around only to be faced with a pimply blonde haired boy sporting a Gryffindor prefect badge.  
"Yes, that would be me," she called, trying to get his attention.  
With a haughty sigh, he thrust his arm outward, and began waving a piece of parchment at her.  
"Thanks," she mumbled, snatching the paper out of his hand. The boy's upper lip curled, and with a short nod, he turned and strutted towards the exit. Hermione rolled her eyes, and unraveled the parchment.  
  
Dear Ms. Granger:  
It is the unfortunate duty of the Ministry of Magic to inform you that we have failed in the attempt of inventing a suitable time turner for your return to said time period of January 5th, 2003. We offer our most sincere condolences.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Minister of Magic Mortuous Pigwaddle  
  
Hermione had almost completely forgotten that the people here had been working to get her back, as well. She had never really expected them to be able to do anything; their original promises had seemed hollow, and hopeless. But there was something about seeing it written in print, that there was no way the Ministry of Magic could help, that somewhat disturbed her. Now here hope solely lay with Dumbledore. . . She was suddenly feeling quite melancholy. Her mind fogged over, almost consciously sparing her of all the concerns and worries which scurried frantically around her brain. In a somewhat dreamy state, she turned around, and headed towards the Gryffindor guest chambers. 


	8. Author's Note Again

Hey Guys  
  
I can't believe I let my updating get this bad. . . but I did. I guess school just hasn't given me the time to write at all. I was thinking of just letting the story go, but because of all the great feedback that's been given, I'm gunna try my hardest to write a good chapter and post ASAP. In the meantime, here's a short sample of the start of the next chapter. . . just a little preview to make sure I don't lose all you great people. Hope you enjoy it, and thanks again!  
  
Ashley  
  
Hermione stayed awake for quite some time after receiving the letter. She lay on her back, berating herself for ever getting involved, for ever breaking the turner in the first place. But in the end, she knew that if she had to do it all over again, she'd still have fallen in love with Albus Dumbledore.  
It was Sunday. That meant another day spent with Albus. What would he have in store for her today? A sock knitting session? A smile tugged at her lips at the thought of Albus, surrounded by a pile of variously colored socks, and furiously knitting on another blue pair to match his eyes. God she loved him. Struck with a sudden burst of hopeful energy, she leapt out of bed, and began getting ready. It was only 7:00, perhaps if she got ready fast enough, she could be prepared for Albus before he got up.  
Hermione stepped tentatively on the first stair towards the boys' dormitories. Should she go up and see if he was awake? What about all the other boys? Oh, but it would be so fun to wake him up! All right, if there are any other boys but Albus who remain in the dorm, she'll leave immediately. Sounds like a plan.  
The door was the same heavy, clunky wooden thing she remembered from Harry and Ron's dormitory. A loud creaking noise emitted from the door as she slowly pushed it open, revealing 5 four-poster beds, with only one inhabited. A mischievous smile swiftly spread across her face. Forgetting the loudness in her steps she began trotting across the floor, quickly gaining speed, and propelled herself upward just as she got to the foot of his bed. Her brief flight in mid air ended within a fraction of a second as she landed, hard, upon Albus's unsuspecting person.  
"G'morning!" Hermione squealed.  
"Ah! Ugh, oh. . . .Hermione! Wha-why. . ."  
"Just thought since you got to give me a surprise wake-up, I'd give you one too," she grinned, trying all too hard to appear cute and innocent after her rather intrusive assault.  
"I see. . . seems fair enough to me," he yawned, rubbing his eyes.  
Hermione giggled. "I hope I wasn't too rough on you."  
"Oh, no, not at all. . .you were like a cat, really. . .you know, the kind that leaps upon your bed and paws at you until you get up and pet them."  
"Um, I think you're still a little sleepy," she whispered, as she leaned over and gave him a light kiss on his lips.  
Just as she began to sit up and roll off of him, she found herself seized around the middle. Quickly she fell back on top of him, with her face buried in his crisp, rumpled white sheets.  
"Think you're getting away that easily, do you?" Dumbledore mused, as he settled her next to him on the right side of his bed.  
Hermione laughed, snuggled herself against his chest, and positioned her face close to his.  
"You're in an especially good mood this morning. Is there anything I should know?" she teased, and began running her fingers through his thick, auburn hair.  
"No, no nothing. . . just that I find you unfathomably beautiful," he replied, mumbling the last part very quickly.  
"Oh, now you're getting mushy one me!" she laughed, and stroked his right cheek. Dumbledore blushed furiously.  
Hermione rolled off of him slowly, and sat in a chair near his bed. "I'll give you a few minutes to compose yourself, shall I go and wait for you downstairs?"  
"No, that's quite all right, I'll only be a moment," he chocked as he slid off his mattress and scuttled into the bathroom. Hermione watched him go, and couldn't help but grin when she noticed the bloomers. 


	9. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's stomach did a sudden flip. Was it the hot chocolate? He tilted the cup and glanced inside. Nothing out of the ordinary, he added the same amount of chocolate to the steaming milk as he always did. So why was it that he couldn't keep his heart rate steady? He ran his tongue along the outside of his lips. It felt as though there had just been a soft, warm pressure on them. . . as if he had just been kissed.  
  
"Honestly, Albus, your hot chocolate recipe is good, but not that good," he said to himself, as he shook his head and took a seat in the plush purple chair behind his desk. After a few moments, he was feeling almost normal, until another surge of adrenaline rushed through his veins. His fingers trembled, and his legs wobbled. He let his eyelids slowly shut over his dry, widened eyes. He allowed darkness to consume his vision, to sooth him, until. . . A sudden flash of white light blinded him. Hermione Granger's face was hovering over his. Her lips were pursed. Her eyes were hungry. Her hands tickled his neck and traveled up into his hair, which felt strangely thick. He realized that his skin felt firm, and his bones and muscles felt stronger. As she placed her deliciously plump lips on his own, he was once again consumed by blackness.  
His head was on his desk. Bit by bit he unclenched the muscles in his face, and opened his eyes. He sat up and leaned his back against the chair. Hermione Granger, was this the answer to her whereabouts after the time turner accident?  
"Bloody hell," Dumbledore mumbled.  
He ripped open his desk drawer to reveal a neatly placed quill and stack of stationary paper. Almost frantically, he began scrawling out a letter. His penmanship lacked its usual luster, but now, Dumbledore thought, was no time to consider the neatness of his handwriting. When he had finished dotting the I's and crossing the T's, he called Fawkes to him.  
  
"Take this to Professor McGonagall, immediately," he said, and tied the letter to his leg. The phoenix acknowledged him briefly, before soaring away.  
  
....................................  
  
A/N: Argh!!!! For some reason, I can't find myself enjoying writing the rest of this story! I've lost my luster for it. . . I'll tell you guys what, if any of you feel like picking it up and finishing it for me, I'll give it to you. Just email me, and tell me what you want to do with it, and I'll consider passing it on. I'm so glad everyone likes it, and I feel bad that I don't want to write it anymore, but I'd rather give it to someone and let them finish it then see it die. 


	10. The Last Update

Hi guys, this'll be the last update from me!  
  
Well, I've passed my creation on to another author: Silinde. I trust she'll do it justice. I hope you enjoy it! It's winter break now, so I think before I go back to school I'll write a quick short story. . .I haven't thought of the plot yet, but hopefully it'll be something good. Thanks so much for all the kind reviews, I never thought anyone would like my story this much!  
  
~Ashley 


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